


The Wind Beneath His Wings

by CharWright5



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bokuto can be surprisingly wise at times, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Pro Hero Bokuto Koutarou, Sidekick Akaashi Keiji, Wind manipulation Akaashi Keiji, Winged Bokuto Koutarou, injuries, references to off-screen deaths of civilians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-22
Updated: 2019-09-22
Packaged: 2020-10-19 09:54:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20655281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CharWright5/pseuds/CharWright5
Summary: Akaashi knew that eventually, he would fail in a mission as a Pro Hero Sidekick. He just wished it didn't cost him so dearly.Good thing his boss has been there before and knows exactly what to say to help alleviate the guilt.





	The Wind Beneath His Wings

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Boku No Hero Academia x Haikyuu!! crossover zine, _Heroes of the Court_.
> 
> Inspired by a) my need to write Bokuto with wings and b) the Fukurodani Nationals game arc where Akaashi was doubting himself. I just had to do this for my piece.
> 
> Title is an obvious play on the Bette Midler song "Wind Beneath My Wings".
> 
> Bokuto's Hero name means "Owl". Akaashi's means "Wind". I...am not creative...

Akaashi let out a long sigh as he sat on the hallway floor, eyes fixated on the bandages around his long fingers. They'd been broken mere hours ago, but a quick kiss from Recovery Girl had reset the bones and fixed them up to almost one-hundred percent. Curling them into a fist, he wondered if he deserved to have them partially healed at all, if he deserved to have the long, slow, painful process of the bones knitting themselves back together naturally.

He dropped his hands onto his lap, head falling back against the wall. The mission that day had been a disaster from the start, a bomb going off in a skyscraper downtown, trapping people on the top floors. Only made sense that the Winged Hero, Fukurou, would be called on to assist in rescue efforts. Also made sense that he'd bring the sidekick with a wind manipulation Quirk—AKA Akaashi. Things had gone fine at first, perfectly according to plan, Fukurou using the detachable feathers of his wings to carry people down gently, Akaashi creating and manipulation wind patterns to do the same. But then...

His eyes closed and he swallowed hard, remembering the Villain that had leaped out the building, right at Fukurou, at the evil bastard's partner showing up to help and throwing people practically through the windows. Akaashi had done his best, had tried to save as many as he could, but between the melee of the fight, the speed of innocents being tossed out, the danger of Akaashi's wind making the flames worse...

“Kaze?”

Akaashi opened his eyes and lifted his head at the sound of his Hero name, finding a doctor exiting the room he was sitting vigil outside of, a curious pull to her brow. He knew he'd been discharged hours ago, knew there was a more comfortable waiting room down the hall, but there was nowhere else he wanted to be than right outside his boss' door.

After all, it was partially his fault Fukurou was in there in the first place. And he wasn't about to risk waiting somewhere else and wind up being forgotten about and passed over, no news delivered to him personally but rather second hand through rumors or “oh, you didn't know?”

No thanks.

The thought of bad news had his heart pounding, his stomach knotting, his skin tingling unpleasantly. Shoving up to his feet, he ignored the numbness in his ass and the throbbing in his fingers, focusing solely on the doctor in front of him. “How is—?”

“He's fine,” she assured with a gentle smile and Akaashi wished he had some sort of mind-reading Quirk or an x-ray one to read the file in her hand, knowing he wouldn't be getting all the details from her. He wasn't immediate family. There'd be no full disclosure. “He's still a bit banged up but Recovery Girl already helped him out a lot. He's drowsy from her Quirk and will need to rest here a few hours, but after that, he's free to go home.”

Relief began to flood him, but Akaashi cut it off, refused to release the tension in his tight shoulders, his stiff spine, his clenched fingers. Fukurou might've been fine now but the fact that Recovery Girl had been needed in the first place wasn't a good sign.

Never mind the fact that she'd helped Akaashi himself out mere hours ago. But his injuries and quick fix were minor, barely any grogginess as a result. Fukurou being that drowsy meant it'd been heavy duty stuff.

The door opened once more and Akaashi peeked around the doctor to see Recovery Girl now exiting, a weary sigh leaving her. Even she seemed exhausted, and considering what a cluster that morning had been, it was obvious she was in high demand. She shuffled off down the hall in the opposite direction from Akaashi and he swallowed back the urge to call after her, to see if he could press her for any info about Fukurou.

So instead, he turned his focus back on the physician before him, bandaged fingers wringing in front of his torso. “Can I go in and see him?”

She glanced at the door, features twisted as though contemplating saying “no”. But she must've seen something on Akaashi's face to change her mind and she gave a small nod and a quiet “for a little while”, leaving with one final gentle smile.

Permission granted, Akaashi waited until she'd disappeared around a corner before quietly knocking on the door. Part of him was almost hoping he hadn't been heard, that maybe Fukurou had fallen asleep, so he'd have the excuse not to enter. Then he felt absolutely ridiculous and idiotic for thinking that. Fukurou was his mentor, the man who'd hand-picked him for an internship during Akaashi's third year at UA then offered him a job upon graduation. They'd gone on countless missions and ops since then, working side by side as a team. They'd seen each other at their worst.

Although, none of that compared to that moment.

A muffled “c'min!” made its way past the door and Akaashi took a deep breath to steel himself, flexing his aching fingers before pushing the door open and stepping inside.

Where the air was promptly stolen from his lungs.

His vision immediately honed in on the man sitting on the only bed, located on the left side of the room. Fukurou— _ Bokuto-san _ wasn't dressed in a typical powder blue hospital gown, but that was solely due to the bandages wrapped around his chest, his white and silver wings nothing more than tiny nubs from where he'd used up his feathers to help others. His usually spiked silver and black hair was now down, hanging limp and even a little damp over a bandage wrapped around his head. His left arm was in a sling, left leg in a similar state, making it obvious what side he'd landed on.

Yet despite all the wrappings and discolored skin and the bags under his eyes that spoke of the fatigue of a hard day, the Hero still smiled brightly upon the sight of his sidekick, crying out an excited “ _ Aghashi!! _ ” that drew Akaashi short.

How could he be this happy? How could he be smiling so wide? He was clearly exhausted and banged up all to hell and despite Recovery Girl's work, he was gonna be out of commission for a couple days. He should be sleeping, should be less jovial, should be...should be mad at Akaashi for his major screw ups and the fact that he was now in that bed, wrapped up and surely in pain.

Guilt was a lead ball churning in his guts and pausing halfway in the room, Akaashi felt it drag him down, felt his upper body fold over in a deep bow. His eyes stung with tears that he held back by screwing the lids shut as tight as possible, yet his throat was thick with emotion, practically choking him.

“I'm so sorry, Fukurou-san,” he sobbed out, not raising up from his bow. “This is all my fault. It's my fault you're so banged up, that I was unable to catch you when that Villain tossed you aside. It's my fault some civilians were injured and even killed as I was unable to save them. It's my fault that they had to call in Nekoma and Pudding-Head and Grand King and—”

“Akaashi.”

The gentle yet firm way his name was stated, the fact that it was pronounced properly at all, had him jolting, the words cut off in his throat with a sharp inhale. Without raising his body, Akaashi peeked up to find Bokuto-san looking at him with a small smile, tired and understanding and sympathetic. Yet his golden eyes were still glowing with a light that rarely seemed to dim and he gestured to a nearby chair with his uninjured right arm.

“Sit.”

And Akaashi did, back stiff and fingers wringing on his lap. His lips were pressed tight together and although he'd managed to hold back any tears, his eyes still stung with them, vision not quite clear.

Bokuto-san glanced around the room, scratching at his head before gesturing to Akaashi and speaking in the same low, gentle yet firm voice he'd just used. “I know you feel bad and you're blaming yourself, but you really shouldn't.” He gave a reassuring smile before continuing. “You can't save everyone. It's just not physically possible. You're human after all. But we Heroes still go out there and do our very best to help as many as we can, even if it means risking our own lives. I don't expect you to be perfect and save a hundred percent of the people we go help, especially not by yourself. I can't even do that, so asking that of you is unfair.”

The words were genuine and the sentiment appreciated, yet...yet Akaashi couldn't quite believe them, believe Bokuto-san, shaking his hanging head in disagreement. “The least I should be able to do is save the Hero I work for,” he muttered, unsure if he was berating himself or arguing with Bokuto-san or both.

A confused noise came from the Winged Hero, Akaashi peeking up to see the emotion echoed in his twisted mouth and cocked eyebrow. “You  _ did _ save me though. Don't you remember?”

Now Akaashi was reflecting the baffled feeling right back, his own brows pulled into a frown as he stared right back at his boss. “What're you talking about?”

Silence, Bokuto-san staring, assessing, before letting out a sigh and rubbing at his bandaged arm. “Do you know why I chose you to be a sidekick?”

Okay, not the response Akaashi was expecting and he shrugged his slumped shoulders. From what he could recall, Bokuto-san had simply said that he liked what he saw when Akaashi had interned for him, but he never really explained what that meant, why he'd offered the internship in the first place.

The self-deprecating part of him felt that Bokuto-san probably regretted it now, was second guessing his choices after Akaashi had failed so spectacularly that day. Yet he kept the words to himself, let Fukurou speak, explain himself, the Winged Hero staring straight ahead at the powered down TV on the wall.

“Pros are good at what they do, it's why they're Pros after all.” Bokuto-san let out a small, humorless laugh before continuing in that same serious tone that Akaashi honestly wasn't used to hearing from him so much. “But we can't do it alone. We need support in so many ways from so many places. A Hero is only as good as those he surrounds himself by.”

Akaashi nodded, understanding, having heard similar words from others in the past, teachers at UA advising students on who to intern with, who to become the sidekick of, who to hire on as a sidekick in the future. And it made sense, considering it wouldn't just affect their own lives, but also those they wished to help.

No man was an island, as the old cliché went. And neither was any Hero.

Bokuto-san turned to him, that same small smile on his face, golden eyes alight even further and making the dark circles underneath more prominent. “I knew from the moment I saw you during the Sports Fest a couple years ago that you were the kind of person that would help me be the best Hero I could be. I mean, I've got wings and you make wind and I'm pretty sure there's a song about that somewhere. It's why I knew you'd be the best sidekick for me, be more than that. You'd be the perfect partner right there next to me.”

The admission had Akaashi inhaling sharply, straightening in his seat, heart tripping all over itself. He didn't get a chance to comment or argue however, Bokuto-san continuing, this time with a slight grimace to his lips, his tone uncharacteristically somber as he continued.

“Yeah, we lost three lives today and it's tragic, I'm not gonna deny that. There were also a lotta injuries sustained by a lotta people, too.” He waggled his bandaged arm, still in its sling, backing up his statement, and Akaashi's eyes fell to his own wrapped up fingers as they twisted on his lap. “But,” Bokuto-san went on, drawing his sidekick's attention back, smile returning. “We saved hundreds of lives today and you were a big part of that. It was why I brought you with me when I got the call, because I knew you'd be able to handle it and that your Quirk was best suited for the job.”

Akaashi jolted in his seat, eyes widening, shock stopping his heart momentarily. The words had been incredibly insightful and for some reason, he'd been surprised by them. Really shouldn't have been. Fukurou hadn't become one of the top five Pro Heroes in the country by being an idiot and bad at his job. Obviously he had to think all these things through, figure out how best to do his job and who would help him do just that and, in his eyes, that person had been Akaashi.

His chest felt warm at the compliment, his cheeks heating. The corner of his mouth twitched in some semblance of a smile at the faith his boss had in him, at the belief that Akaashi was capable of being a Hero and of backing up one of the best out there. And yet...

And yet that guilt was still a heavy weight churning his gut, wiping away any smile that had been trying to form and replacing it with a deprecating frown. Bokuto-san had a point when he said they'd saved people, but Akaashi couldn't stop thinking about the three they hadn't, about those he'd missed, about the injuries incurred by those that'd survived and how their lives will never be the same.

Bokuto-san sighed heavily, rubbing at his bandaged forehead. Nothing needed to be said for him to know what was going through his sidekick's mind, what he was thinking and feeling. Chances were he'd been through himself in the past, had once worn Akaashi's shoes, and because of that experience, could figure out—or at least have a pretty good idea of—what the younger man was feeling.

“I know you can't just magically erase all the self-blame,” Bokuto-san stated in that same somber tone. “And there's nothing I can say to get rid of it for you. I still carry it around myself and I'm not gonna sit here and tell you that I'm not dealing with part of it right now.” A self-deprecating smile, a shrug of his uninjured shoulder, then the easygoing grin Akaashi was used to seeing him wear. “But there's no use in dwelling on the past, not when there's always a new Villain to battle and other civilians to protect. You have to wipe your mental slate clean, go into every fight, every mission giving it your all, and then some.”

“Plus Ultra?” Akaashi deadpanned.

“Plus Ultra,” Bokuto-san grinned wide. “Just remember the positives, focus on those. Yeah, today wasn't perfect, but it could've been a lot worse, and you're a big reason why it wasn't an even bigger tragedy.”

Akaashi nodded as he let the words sink in, mulling them over in his mind. Obviously it came from a place of experience, having been there and done that, most likely on numerous occasions. Akaashi himself was still relatively new at all of this and when he really thought about it, this was the first time a mission had gone south on him so bad. Chances were, it wasn't gonna be the last either. Bokuto-san had a point about letting go, not letting it drag him down. If he carried the weight of those deaths on him, let his mind ruminate on them as he headed into every mission, then he was gonna screw things up, was gonna get sloppy and make mistakes. Or worse, he was gonna be too scared to do anything, afraid that someone was gonna get hurt, and his inaction would cause undue harm anyway.

“You're right,” he admitted out loud, letting out a long sigh and forcing the corners of his lips up in a shaky smile. Knowing Bokuto-san had a point, knowing it was the right way to handle all of it, that was easy to say or think. Actually carrying it out...that was gonna take some time.

And time was exactly what they had, considering their injuries were forcing both of them to take it easy—at least for the remainder of the day in Akaashi's case. Bokuto-san was gonna need to rest a lot longer than him.

Rising to his feet, he bowed his head at his boss, thanking him for the advice. “I'm gonna let you get some sleep,” he stated once he'd straightened back up. “Call me when you're discharged and I'll bring you some clothes and take you home.”

“Sounds good.” A thumbs up and a big grin, yet when Akaashi looked closer, he could see the strain around his eyes and the way he was fighting to keep the expression up. He didn't acknowledge it though, figuring their conversation had been heavy enough, day had been draining enough, and that if Bokuto-san wanted him to know that he was still feeling the weight of it all, he'd let it be known.

So instead, he briefly smiled back then turned to head to the exit.

“Kaze.”

He paused halfway at the sound of his Hero name, peering over his shoulder at the now genuine smile on his boss's face, the twinkle back in his golden eyes.

“I'm proud of you. Always have been, always will be. Nothing will ever change that.”

A lump formed in his throat, stubborn and thick, not moving even when he swallowed repeatedly. “Thank you, Fukurou-san,” he mumbled, the words hitting him square in his chest, having come from a Hero he admired, a Hero he now considered a close friend. “I'm proud of you, too.”

Bokuto-san practically beamed, the image sticking in Akaashi's mind as he left the room and headed down the hall, down the elevators, out the hospital.

He paused around the corner of the building, no one else around, the sun beginning to set behind tall trees and taller buildings. The smoke from earlier had cleared, the air fresh and scented with the cherry blossoms blooming around him, and the only evidence he could see of what happened that day were the bandages on his fingers and the smell of ash still stuck to his clothing.

In a rush of movements, he bent over at the waist, buried his face in his hands, and let out a scream, releasing the guilt, the frustration, the self-aimed anger. Nothing will ever get him back to how he'd once been: naïve and believing he could do anything, could save everyone. Those days of innocence were gone, wiped out by reality and a mission turned tragic, the worst he'd suffered.

The first, but not the last.

Bokuto-san's words came back, untying the knot around his chest, soothing the churning in his gut. Even Pros had bad days, bad missions, times when they mess up and things don't go according to plan. Yet they still go out and fight, protect, save. They still do their jobs. They still find a way to move on and save those they can, even if it's not everyone.

They're all human at the end of it all, a harsh lesson he'd learned that day. The only thing they could do is learn and move on and do their best in everything they do, Plus Ultra style.

Standing back up, Akaashi took several deep breaths, the tension and negativity leaving with each exhale. He was gonna do better next time, was gonna take what had happened that day and use it as fuel to ensure it wouldn't happen again. He was gonna be the best support for Fukurou, for the Hero that believed in him, and prove himself worthy of it. He owed it to himself, to Fukurou, and to the citizens of this town they watched over.


End file.
